


sub-liminal

by catpoop



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Age Play Little Crowley (Good Omens), Domestic, Infantilism, Lack of Communication, M/M, Post-Canon, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), dont look at me, this is feel-good content i have to admit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 14:18:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21429601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catpoop/pseuds/catpoop
Summary: Aziraphale comes across a snoozing demon.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 140





	sub-liminal

**Author's Note:**

> wasn't going to anonymise this but then i. shame
> 
> edit: un-anonymised bc actually i DOnt Care

Aziraphale first makes the discovery post-Armageddon. Post-_pseudo_-Armageddon. He hadn’t intended to do so – the visit was regarding a plant. Some lovely red geraniums, in fact, recently purchased from Lilith’s just down the road. He clutches the pot, swaddled in waxy pink paper, the kind that Crowley will crumple up and toss into the bin before Aziraphale rescues it for recycling. Crowley will then question the recyclability of wax paper, and remind him that neither of them have taken out the rubbish or the recycling in the last few centuries.

Aziraphale smiles at the thought.

The plant sways delightedly in his grip, and Aziraphale hopes it will make a bright addition to Crowley’s indoors garden. Having long heard about it through offhanded mentions and curses and idle reminders, Aziraphale first laid eyes on the plants themselves a mere week ago. Since then, Aziraphale has had the good fortune to visit Crowley’s flat another two times, and this third occasion calls for a proper housewarming gift.

He wasn’t there when Crowley first moved in during the early 20th century, so it’s only appropriate to gift something now. Additionally, Aziraphale thinks, the colour would be a nice addition to Crowley’s walls of green. 

The door swings open as soon as he rests a hand on the doorknob, the flat having recognised him as a friendly face. 

There is no friendly face to greet him on the other side of the door, and Aziraphale calls out to an empty room.

“Hello, Crowley?”

The living area sits dreary and empty, and it is in times like this that Aziraphale wonders how the demon can call the flat home, with its museum stillness and mausoleum silence. The garden is similarly empty, though the plants rustle at his presence. By now, Aziraphale has already figured out where Crowley must be.

There are only three rooms in the flat, after all. 

He sets the plant down beside its brethren, giving it one last pat before heading towards the bedroom, where the metal door swings open as Aziraphale approaches. He nods a thank you, charmed by the flat’s politeness, if not its design sense. The door eases gently shut behind him.

“Crowley, dear boy?”

The question is met with a soft snuffle, Crowley’s curled form huddled beneath sheets and duvet and turned away from the door. Aziraphale pads closer, entranced by the way a lone sunbeam strikes the exposed part of Crowley’s head. His firetruck-red hair, specifically.

No wonder the serpent decided to have a little kip, the bedroom windows perfect for catching the afternoon rays. He rounds the end of the bed, intent on the free spot of mattress by the curve of Crowley’s body. Indeed, the mattress is acres of empty space when paired with Crowley’s lanky body, but Aziraphale sets his eyes on the coveted spot nonetheless. 

Crowley makes another soft sound as he sits down. He’s still asleep, but it is then that Aziraphale spots the cause of the noise.

A pacifier. A matte black one, in fact, embossed with a little gold serpent that has Aziraphale wondering where he might’ve purchased such a thing. It matches him and his flat, in the very least. _A miracle!_ he chuckles a moment later.

The pacifier shifts as Crowley snuffles on an inhale, and Aziraphale admires how it matches the lovely swirl of his tattoo for a pause before reaching a hand out to that mess of hair. 

Crowley startles on contact, but Aziraphale is used to the fidgetiness. The demon settles down immediately after, though not without first rolling onto his back with a huff then rolling again to face Aziraphale. He curls closer, almost undulating sideways to secure an arm around Aziraphale’s thigh. 

Aziraphale smiles at the sight.

A benefit of inhabiting a human body with only a secondhand understanding of how they work is that Aziraphale doesn’t get pins and needles in his legs as Crowley snoozes on, slowly manoeuvring himself to wrap around them as securely as if he were in his serpent form. Aziraphale continues to stroke his hair and miracles a book from the shop.

The sunlight has grown dull by the time Crowley stirs, perhaps roused by the lack of warmth. The sleep fades from his body with the twitch of a hand, a flicker of an eyelid, a full-bodied yawn that jostles Aziraphale’s book as he flips the page. 

Crowley makes a noise around the pacifier. “Zzrffl?”

“Yes, darling?”

Crowley rubs his eyes before opening them fully, and Aziraphale is too busy appreciating their shade of sleep-dulled gold to fully realise the way Crowley goes cross-eyed, bites down on a yell, and vanishes into his serpent form.

Aziraphale sets his book down. “My dear, what’s wrong?”

He gets a hiss in reply, even though snake Crowley is fully capable of speech. The sound muffles as Crowley snaps up the pacifier in one gulp and disappears under the pile of blankets.

“Crowley?”

He hears another sound, a retch then a short cough, then sees the duvet deform with the force of a small projectile hitting it from beneath. Crowley hisses once more.

Sitting upright, Aziraphale strokes a hand down the exposed length of Crowley’s tail. It quickly disappears into the mountain of fabric. “Come now, Crowley. What’s the matter?”

He watches the one snake-shaped mountain quiver for a moment before finally speaking. “Nothing! Go away, angel.”

“Crowley…” Aziraphale tries once more. Communication has never been their strong spot, but he doesn’t like to see Crowley like this. “I’m sorry for waking you up. I brought you a plant, a nice geranium. I left it with the other plants, though I’m sure you’ll be able to pick it out immediately.”

Crowley audibly sulks.

“Should I go, then? I’ll call you tomorrow.” Getting ready to stand up, Aziraphale picks the book up from the nightstand and fiddles with its cover.

An affirmative hiss.

Aziraphale straightens his shirt and gives Crowley a wistful glance. “Would you like me to open the curtains some more? You can still catch the sun here.”

Crowley barks what could be a ‘No!’, and Aziraphale takes it as his cue to leave.

**Author's Note:**

> may be continued if i feel like it
> 
> Let Me Know If Want More


End file.
